Why Do We Love the Bad Boys?
The Romanticisation of Toxic Relationships.

by Isabel Hodges.

Audiences have caught onto a contagious trend of loving “bad boys”, and I must confess, I’m no exception. What starts as a mild fascination can quickly escalate into a full-blown obsession. Whether it’s watching movies or scrolling through social media, we’re drawn to glorified individuals who embody the traits of psychopathic serial killers or cold-hearted narcissists. Captivated by the likes of Tyler Durden or Patrick Bateman, one has to ask, why?

Robyn McKay, psychologist, explains that “if a girl’s inner life is unexpressed, she may be drawn to a bad boy as a way of vicariously expressing her own inner rebel.” But is it just because they “look like you wanna look. Fuck like you wanna fuck”? [1]

These are men who are a culmination of pure, unfettered masculinity, performing as the “perfect” male product. From tight wife-beaters and leather jackets to cigarette-smoking motorcycle riders with sinister smiles. To the ones you’d sneak out of your bedroom window to go and see, hoping Daddy doesn’t know. We’ve joined #TeamEdward, pined over Heath Ledger singing Can’t Take My Eyes Off You, watched Cry-Baby to see Johnny Depp rock a face tat, fought with friends over Mark Darcy or Daniel Cleaver, sang along with John Travolta in a 1950s leather jacket get-up, moaned in our A-level English Lit class when Marlon Brando appeared on screen for the first time in A Streetcar Named Desire (Elia Kazan, 1951) – no, just me?

So, who cares if Stanley Kowalski hits his wife? He still looks amazing dripping in sweat in a white t-shirt, so what if David McCall was a stalker and carved Nicole 4 Eva into his chest? He still looked great whilst fingering Nicole Walker on a roller coaster as Wild Horses played, so what if Jason Dean shot two teenage football players and framed it as a gay suicide pact? He still looked really hot riding his motorcycle. Is our love for these characters just purely surface-level?

Sure, they’re a cooler-than-thou outsider looking in. But really, they’re soft, tortured souls with a heart of gold who are just putting up a brave front; maybe a rugged, seemingly unshakeable persona can be enticing, inviting people to uncover the possibility of an elusive softer side? Maybe they’re misunderstood with destructive tendencies? Maybe you want to save them, fix them, change them? Maybe they need a few sessions in therapy? Or maybe we do.

When discussing the concept of the “bad boy," we're referring to characters who exude hyper-masculinity, often accompanied by exaggerated sexuality. Rachael Alexander explains our attraction to this archetype as “almost subconsciously, women are drawn to three general stereotypes: the standoffish, cool and uncaring bad boy, perfected by James Dean; the caring, compassionate, and intellectual equal, embodied by the nineteenth-century gentleman; and, the aggressive and highly sexual predator.” [2] It's important to distinguish between these stereotypes and individuals who also exhibit traits of the so-called psychological dark triad, which may include narcissism (entitlement and grandiosity), Machiavellianism (exploitative tendencies), and psychopathy (antisocial and impulsive behaviour). The allure of the “bad boy" archetype stems from a complex interplay of hyper-masculine traits and societal perceptions of attractiveness. Ultimately, our fascination with the “bad boy" archetype and the romanticisation of such characters can contribute to the normalisation and glamorisation of toxic relationship dynamics. By idealising traits like aloofness, aggression, and unpredictability, we may perpetuate harmful stereotypes and behaviours in romantic relationships.

“the misunderstood, brooding loner with a heart of gold, [meets] the innocent girl who is able to ‘fix’ him... however, people are not DIY projects, and it’s not healthy to expect anyone to ‘fix’ another person. Relationships should be about mutual growth and support, not some romanticised home improvement project. If you need to ‘fix’ your partner, might I suggest a trip to Ikea instead?” Nathan Chen. [3]

Furthermore, research detailed in the European Journal of Personality highlights the link between narcissism and increased attraction. [4] The study suggests that narcissistic traits can exert a magnetic pull, particularly in short-term relationships, where the allure of pursuit and novelty holds sway. The appeal of "bad boys" often mirrors the challenge of solving a puzzle or playing an intricate game, offering a sense of purpose and diversion. Some may find satisfaction in attempting to "fix" or "tame" these enigmatic individuals, seeking validation by uncovering a perceived softer side beneath their tough exterior. Moreover, for those seeking external validation, the thrill of the chase may be especially enticing, promising to fill an unmet need.

Does his emotional unavailability activate your abandonment issues, causing you to want him to choose you? And once he chooses you, you’ll finally have the evidence that you’re worthy of love. Does he trigger your abandonment issues, meaning that it only makes you want him more to prove that you’re worth being loved? Falling for these types of men “happens to the most caring and nurturing people," Dr. Feuerman explains, “they want to see the best in others and have difficulty believing that someone can be truly bad.” [4]

Individuals often admire qualities in others that they wish they possessed themselves; for instance, a "good girl" may be drawn to the sense of freedom embodied by the “bad boy". Despite recognising that such qualities may render him an unsuitable long-term partner, the allure remains strong enough to outweigh potential drawbacks. Some individuals also seek a partner who embodies resilience and strength in the face of adversity as certain women may feel a sense of protection from the tough guy's comfort with aggression.

We must understand that even though our attraction to this archetype may be captivating, healthy relationships are built on respect and compassion, not manipulation and the abuse of power dynamics.

When looking at a film like Twilight (Catherine Hardwicke, 2008), I’m posed to ask: what is romantic about a gaslighting, overbearing, 100-year-old vampire-stalker being in love with a teenage girl? He’s not your problematic fave; he’s literally only attracted to her because he wants to kill her…did we watch the same movie?

Twilight, written by a female writer and helmed by a female director, gives us access to Edward's neurotic inner world. While it succeeds in offering a portrayal of vampires that extends beyond their murderous inclinations, the film's flaws and the shortcomings of its protagonist are glaringly obvious. The romanticisation of problematic controlling behaviour, like stalking, should not be rewarded. Are women really brainwashed to want emotionally unavailable and abusive men?

“There's a subconscious pull towards the emotional chaos that “bad boys” often bring. The bad boy's tendency to oscillate between positive and negative treatment can be both excruciating and pleasurable …This psychological phenomenon of intermittent reinforcement creates a twisted cycle, drawing us deeper into the web of attraction.“ [5]

In an early scene of the film, Edward is depicted watching Bella sleep, a moment rich with visual and emotional depth, a rather creepy sequence than romantic. Close-up shots are employed to capture the intensity of Edward's gaze as he observes her sleeping peacefully. Through these close-ups, the audience witnesses Edward's longing and inner turmoil, while also highlighting Bella's clear vulnerability within this situation. The use of soft-focus adds to the scene's intimacy, creating a clear connection between the characters. Enhanced by soft, diffused lighting, Bella's sleep is dream-like, emphasising her supposed ethereal presence in Edward’s eyes. The interplay of light and shadow serves to symbolise the contrast between their worlds: Bella's mortal existence and Edward's immortal one. Like a yin and yang, there is both darkness in light and light in darkness.

Silence also plays a strategic role, heightening the tension and intimacy between Edward and Bella. Subtle sounds of Bella's breathing and the faint rustle of her bed sheets as she moves in her sleep, further immerse the audience in the moment, drawing them closer to the characters' shared intimacy (well actually more of a perverted and one-sided intimacy as Bella isn’t even awake or aware of his presence in her bedroom). Edward's behaviour in this scene can be interpreted through a lens of obsessive-compulsive tendencies. His need to monitor Bella's safety may stem from irrational fears, despite his own supernatural abilities. This behaviour may serve as a means for him to exert control over his environment, asserting his dominance over Bella's vulnerability and invading her privacy.

But surviving in a relationship and being in love with danger is not healthy. Risking your life for sex is not worth it, trust me. We are sexually stimulated by these “bad boys” because we can’t have them without inevitably risking our lives. Wood writes, “Vampires have long been viewed as the ultimate sexual monster…. They are the…forbidden lust, the carnal, primal animal…. The vampire may take us with a slow seduction or with violent aggression, but take us he must in order to live himself.” [6]

Eric Nuzum even notes,“Very rarely are vampire stories about vampires…They are the perfect metaphor for anything that challenges you or makes you lose control” [7]. This brings forth an even bigger cultural fascination that women have with gratuitous displays of masculine violence that is often substituted within the realm of erotic stimulation.

Another perverted predecessor comes in the form of Jason Dean, the terrorist with teen angst from Heathers (Michael Lehmann, 1988). In one scene from the film Jason and Veronica wake up in his car outside of their high school after killing two football players and framing it as a gay suicide. Before being able to reach into his pocket to find a cigarette, Jason grabs Veronica’s hand violently before realising what she was actually after. The line between affection and aggression are blurred, a need for dominance and control are clear. With a normalised integration of violence into sexual relationships one can see how Jason gets off when committing acts of murder. After killing the two football players, Jason and Veronica hide in his car from the cops and inevitably have sex. Hybristophilia is a type of paraphilia in which a person “gets sexually aroused over someone else committing an offensive or violent act” reveals Katherine Ramsland. [8]

The teetering between sex and violence is also seen later on in this scene when Veronica inflicts a burn on her hand, which Jason uses to light his own cigarette. The act of lighting a cigarette can be interpreted as phallic. When a person lights a cigarette, they are often holding a cylindrical object: the cigarette, reminiscent of the shape of a penis, and with this gesture, they evoke imagery that represents male sexuality and dominance. The act of lighting a cigarette involves a moment of ignition and release, which can become a metaphor for sexual arousal and climax, made even more obvious by Jason using Veronica’s hand as his lighter mimicking a handjob. The eventual puff of smoke that follows from the cigarette can be seen as a visual representation of ejaculation. Yet again, there is no consideration for Veronica’s safety, as Jason utilises her pain for himself. Erin Leonard describes this narcissistic trait as “anti-empathetic”, “they do not care to try and understand how you feel or where you are coming from.” [9]

When it comes down to JD’s transportation, the motorcycle takes the spotlight. Riding a motorcycle can be associated with symbols of masculinity, virility, and sexual prowess as well as freedom and independence. This sense of liberation can be interpreted as sexually charged, representing a desire. The motorcycle is also another phallic symbol due to its shape, particularly the handlebar’s elongated shape and the engine’s cylindrical form.

“Bad boys” seem to have a pattern of an exaggerated sexual presence and narcissism. These are not good people, especially when it comes down to the casual acts of murder. But one can see how JD has become a quintessential “bad boy”, with his own name mimicking that of the original silver screen rebel, James Dean. He smokes, manipulates and gaslights in his long black coat and even preaches that the extreme always seems to make an impression”“ in relation to himself. [10]

And so, finally, we come to our remaining “bad boy”, a leather jacket-wearing, motorcycle-driving, gang leader Danny Zuko from Grease (Randal Kleiser, 1978). Although he’s not a murderous psychopath, he is a class-A fuckboy with a tendency to be sexually aggressive. A womaniser or on the internet (a fuckboy) is of course a boy, not a man who is into conquests and looking for fresh kills. They will always change once they’ve got what they wanted. In the end, they only break your heart, disappear and then repeat the cycle with another poor, naive girl. Grease follows that lovely “good girl/bad boy” rom-com plot, with Caitlin Andrews pointing out that “there seems to be a disturbing majority of male protagonists who will treat their female love interests appallingly, in countless movies where the girl gets with the wrong guy. Then these guys…think that an incredibly trivial physical change will undo the past hour and a half’s worth of public humiliation and misogyny.”

This man-child only wants Sandy when he can’t have her, ah yes, the “Forbidden Fruit effect”. However, Sandy goes out of her way to don a leather catsuit, blow-dry the absolute hell out of her hair, slap her face with heavy makeup and smoke a cigarette. Sandy's makeover can be seen as a form of objectification, as she conforms to societal standards of beauty to win Danny's affection. This objectification reinforces traditional gender roles and expectations, where women are valued for their physical appearance and ability to attract male attention. However, Sandy’s makeover could also be interpreted as a means of asserting power and control over her relationship with Danny.

By transforming herself into a more sexually confident and assertive persona, Sandy takes control of her own narrative and challenges male dominance in relationships. But the fact that this transformation is purely surface also mirrors Danny’s half-arsed attempt at changing as he has the audacity to throw on a cardigan over his normal black attire, and somehow it was good enough. This is pretty privilege. Of course pretty privilege and the “halo effect” comes heavily into play when it comes to these “bad boys”, it’s all about “being treated like you’re worth more than others, just because of appearances” and even though we know they’re terrible, we just can’t help but be hypnotised by their attractiveness.

Another moment in the film that gets glossed over includes Danny “trying to comedically touch her breasts without her consent, force himself on her in his car..” [11]Grease explores the dynamics of teenage relationships and the pressures of fitting in through the use of intimate close-up shots of Danny and Sandy's faces conveying their awkward emotions, whilst wide shots of the drive-in theatre emphasise the vastness of the space around them, creating a sense of isolation within the crowd. This isolation however can be read with a sinister undertone as Danny tries to sexually violate Sandy which in itself is an isolating experience. Female-based violence is nothing new, and being a by-product of its time may be seen as a lame excuse within a multitude of factors that lead to this behaviour. Still it is a recurring problem with Danny, who is a character without principles. Although he is not actually trying to be sexually perverted and a creep, Danny is still a teenager who is swayed by his friends opinions rather than his own moral compass and “witnessing a physically attractive love interest act sexually aggressively and chauvinistically, followed by his subsequent exoneration at the end of the movie, is so harmful when left unaddressed.” [12]Although he unintentionally hurts people (especially women), he still hurts them either way. There’s no apology, no accountability and no self-awareness. Inevitably he’s forgiven; his actions never justified but rather excused. But like the rest of these “bad boys” they really all can get away with murder.

When it comes to being into “bad boys”, it’s like always chasing after a high once you’ve had a hit. But hey, maybe we should stop relating people to drugs. After all they are harmful, but it seems that we like to overlook potential harmful consequences Loving them is a habit we just can’t shake off.

by Isabel Hodges, Issue 0, March 2024.

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